


Air

by iamanidhwal



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Bit of Fluff, Boxes talking, Deadpool - Freeform, For my lovelies!, Fourth Wall Breaking, M/M, Pop fiction references, Spider-Man - Freeform, Spideypool - Freeform, bit of angst, bit of gore, bit of smut, encounters, happy holidays!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-03 16:49:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2857910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamanidhwal/pseuds/iamanidhwal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wade Wilson was a mercenary, and his reputation stretched across universes. Everything he wanted was given to him on a blood stained silver platter. He could laugh mortality in the face, with his arm draped casually around Lady Death’s waist.</p><p>So he really couldn’t accept the fact that he needed a certain masked vigilante swinging around New York in spider webs like he needed air.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a little Christmas treat to all of you! I hope you enjoy! This is gonna be short! I intend to make it three chapters tops!
> 
> Also, don't worry! I'm not giving up on "Home"!
> 
> I appreciate all kudos and comments! I just don't reply to them because I feel like it's cheating my actual number of comments for a story ;a;
> 
> WARNING: Spoilers on DC's Watchmen. Not really, but yes really. Come on, Rorschach WAS a total babe ;~; //cries forever
> 
> \----  
> { x } - White Box
> 
> [ x ] - Yellow Box  
> \----  
> Anyway, without further ado!

* * *

The first time Wade admitted he needed someone, it was when he ran out of bullets.

The steady click of his guns tore through the haze of bloodlust in his brain almost immediately. The distraction instantly reverted him from the infamous Deadpool to the crazy, silly Merc with a Mouth. He looked down at his guns, shrugged, then casually reached for his pockets as though he wasn’t in the middle of a fight with a warehouse full of black-clad men. To his credit, the ones who had encircled him were now either lying on the ground, helplessly clutching at their bleeding arm or leg, or collapsed on the ground, bullet between the eyes. The remaining people in the room clutched at their guns with white knuckles, their common sense finally kicking in that, no, this big lug of a guy was no one to be messed with.

Wade already had his hands deep in the pouches in his belt when he clutched air. He frowned under the mask in confusion.

He didn’t have spares.

[Wait… Seriously?!]

{I _told_ you to put the bullets back into the pouches after you played with them. _Now_ look at how fucked you are.}

[How the _fuck_ could you forget to bring _spares?!]_

“This cannot be happening,” he mumbled, looking for grenades that could be thrown. They were usually strapped across his chest, but it was bare. “Huh. Where are they?”

{You threw them outside the warehouse a while ago.}

“Now why the fuck would I do that?”

[How should we know?]

{We should know, actually…}

[Then why don’t we?]

{Same question. We’ve got company.}

Wade looked up at that. He was being encircled again by a new wave of goons. They seem to have been shaken from their mindless state and had gotten everything from their (Wade had to admit enviously through gritted teeth) impressive arsenal. He counted three grenade launchers, and more than two handfuls of AK-47’s. Wade had to pay their funder a visit personally after this mission.

He hastily drew his two swords, realization crashing into him. He couldn’t hold his own with just two swords against this many. The bullets, sure – he could replicate what Ryan Reynolds did in _X-Men Origins: Wolverine_. But the guys had magazine after magazine strapped to their bodies; apparently, ‘overkill’ was just their short-term goal. And those grenade launchers would’ve looked better if he wasn’t staring at their muzzles.

“Well, shit.”

The rounds of gunfire began, and he sliced through most of the bullets, often maneuvering them into the enemies. That didn’t stop, though, and soon he found his ears ringing from the explosions from the grenades. He stumbled to the side, disoriented, and then he found that his arm was taken out. He rolled and ducked under a stack of crates, chest heaving to control the pain and try to figure out how to avoid dying. Not that he had a problem with dying – just another visit to his one and only babe, Lady Death, wasn’t a bad idea at all – but it would look _so_ lame if he died in the hands of these noobs. His reputation couldn’t suffer that blow.

A thought rang through his mind clearly: _If only I had someone to back me up when I get too stupid._

[Whoa… where’d that come from?]

Wade momentarily forgot being in a rut to actually consider it. Where _had_ the thought come from? Sure, he had fun during the occasional team-ups with Wolvy and Bob and such people, but the thought of having them around when he gets too stupid (a.k.a. nearly all the time)? To call it ‘unexpected’ was the understatement of the century.

He didn’t have long to dwell on it, though, because someone had reached over the stack of crates, getting the mercenary in a headlock. Wade could’ve flipped him on his back in such a way a professional wrestler would drool over watching him, no problem. But there was a fucking knife jabbing his lower back, and while he wouldn’t have minded, it would cost him more time and more effort.

[We need health upgrades! Press ‘Escape’ to buy upgrades with the Deadpool points you’ve earned so far! Remember: you can earn Deadpool points by exploring and/or combos in fighting!]

{We’re not in the game, you idiot.}

[What?! But this is the kind of shit we need upgrades for!]

{If we were in the game, we’d spend the Deadpool points restocking in grenades and bear traps.}

“Wow, thanks guys. Please, continue your intelligent conversation on hypothetical situations while I concentrate on _not_ being Charles Xavier Jr.,” he growled, bringing back the attention to him. He couldn’t do anything. His arm was lying on the ground six feet away. And moving was out of the question right now.

So he did whatever any insane mercenary would do in a situation like his own: talk.

“Dude, holy fuck, are you _sure_ you’re just a goon?”

The guy with his arms around his neck (in a non-romantic way) stiffened, confused. “What?”

Wade snorted. “Issey Miyake perfume. _Really?_ You wear that high-end shit to _work?”_

The buff guy’s face immediately colored. “My mother usually told me I should ‘dress to impress’ – “

“Honey, just a piece of advice.” He turned around and stuck his sword through his gut. “When the coroner takes pictures for your autopsies, they won’t know nor care if you wore Issey Miyake tonight.”

The body slumped to the ground, but more people were surrounding him, guns raised. Wade groaned.

{I bet half a minute till you die.}

[I’d give him 15 seconds.]

“Such confidence!” he mused quite loudly, even though he knew his voices could hear him just fine with mumbles. “I feel so flattered you two are confident in my abilities!”

{You’re welcome.}

“Oh, screw you guys,” he grumbled, preparing for the worst – which was a 68% decline rate for his customers in the following months. Yellow did the math. Actually, screw that. All three of them cared jack shit about math to even think about the rise and fall of –

“Fellas! I’m afraid the show’s over!”

Wade looked up, confused. And in the corner of his eye he could see the goons warily eyeing the windows at the top of the warehouse, no doubt as confused as Wade felt.

[Oh, fuck. Is it a boss? Are we gonna have a boss battle?]

In the darkness, Wade could only see a blur, but as it got closer, it materialized into something that made him want to scream in delight. He held back, however, and let him do his thing – which was knock out the entire circle with fast reflexes and webs. And _oh hot damn_ the view on his ass was in _credible!_

“Spidey!” He squealed like a total fangirl. Energy renewed, he started swinging his katana, deliberately slicing the necks of the goons nearest him. “You saved me!”

“Deadpool, what have you done?!” the masked vigilante shrieked as he saw the blood spraying in spurts, and the puddle inching close to his boots. He jumped up and crouched onto a crate to avoid it. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Well, I was on my way to Samantha’s Tacos – you ever been there? Got the best tacos in the world, 10/10 would recommend – minding my own business, hell, I was even singing Elsa’s “Let It Go” with White and Yellow here –“

“Get to the point.”

“Can’t rush perfection, Spidey! Anyway, then these two lugs started shooting at me out of nowhere! Made a right chaos, too – everyone went screaming. And when you see three prostitutes running away from a back alley screaming bloody murder with a suspicious white substance on their cheek, you know shit’s about to go down –“

“Spare me the details!” The other guy groaned.

“So, yeah. Of course I fought back, yadda yadda, killed them and all, made a bigger explosion than they did because honestly it was such a piss-poor job, and then tracked the goons here to finish the damn business –“

“Wait, wait. This explosion, was this the one near Queens?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, that – “

“That was _you?!”_ he growled. Wade blinked up at him.

“What? Why?”

“I was _studying_ for my _bio-chem final_ when gunshots and screaming happened _, you mother— “_

“You live near Queens?”

Silence hung heavily between them. Wade had to admit, it was fun watching Spider-Man realize this slip of vital information to his secret identity he was so protective of (Gollum, much?). Spider-Man’s eyes on his mask comically widened and he nearly fell off the crate he was perched on.

“Wha – wait, no –“ The younger man sucked in a breath. “Wade –“

“Oh my _God,_ I know where Spider-Man lives!”

“ _Wade – “_

“Shit, baby-boy, I have to meet the fam! Totes meet the fam! Should I wear a dress? How about dinner tomorrow? Pick me up at five?”

“ _Wade!”_ He yelled. “ _No one_ is meeting _anyone!”_

{Wow.}

[Rude.]

Wade frowned underneath the mask. But he didn’t blame him. No one wanted to invite a big, clumsy, insane mercenary with a sense of humor as obscene as the Dada Revolution in the eyes of the traditionalists and as dark as the theoretical anti-matter to dinner. Well, no one in their right minds. And this superhero in ass-accentuating spandex, the one studying for a science-y finals test, can never be categorized into people _not_ in their right minds.

Spider-Man just shook his head and started rounding the goons up, webbing them together in a tight ring, or to the wall, or to the floor. Wade could hear him repressing the urge to be sick when he saw the mutilated corpses of the victims Wade had dealt with before he had come here. He felt a bit guilty when he saw him dry-heaving, but hell, if he’d have the chance to slit the throats of the people who thought Deadpool was such an easy game, he’d do it five hundred and sixty three times more.

[Kinda specific, don’t you think?]

“Well, at least it’s not a glass ceiling,” he replied audibly, picking up his arm and holding it to the bloody stump on his body, willing his healing factor to work faster so it would reattach.

He heard Spider-Man’s voice from above. “Oy, Deadpool.”

“Yes, sweetums?” He looked up and grinned. The man was hanging upside-down on a string of web, peering at everything to check if there was still anything else to be done. “Oooh, is it time for the signature Spidey-kiss? Pucker up, I ain’t gonna settle for less than French!”

“In your dreams, Red,” Spidey snorted, shaking his head.

“Oooh, obvious nicknames! Can I call you ‘Perfect Ass’ now? And what’s with the dreams? You ever spied on me when I have the wet jimmies?”

“I am going to pretend that I did not hear that,” he mumbled darkly. “Deadpool, I need you to watch the men for me. I’ll alert the police force and lead them here. You stay here, guard them, make sure they don’t break loose until I come back. Is that clear?”

“Crystal!” He sang, twirling around. “Spidey-babe needs me!”

“Wade, is that the _only thing_ you heard?!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll watch the men. Hehe. Watchmen. You have to watch and/or read that though. Rorschach is a total babe.”

[ _Totally_!]

{Too bad he died.}

[Spoiler alert, you bastard!]

{The movie came out in 2009.}

[Who cares! Rorschach, my baby!]

Spider-Man just shook his head. “Just be good.”

“Will do, darling~ Does this mean we’re partners now?”

That made the hero freeze halfway through shooting a web to swing on. Wade just waited for a reply.

He finally grumbled out a sentence. “Someone’s gotta clean up after your mess, Wilson.” Before the mercenary could respond, he shot a web out the window and swung out.

“Awwwww, I’ll be there when you need me, partner!” He squealed as he started swinging away. He turned to the nearest goon who was looking at Deadpool as though he had grown a second head (would it be White's or Yellow's?). Deadpool smirked. “He _totally_ needs me, am I right? And I need him too.”

And those last few words slipped from his mouth so easily and so sincerely, he was too surprised to even take it back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was a thing I wrote in a day (wow go me) and this is 3,983 words long holy eff yay yay yay
> 
> some of you might suffer from emotional whiplash and such and im so sorry for that 
> 
> i was tempted to break it off around the middle but hey i promised 3 chapters right? right
> 
> please do note i am bad at describing emotional stuff like love and anxiety so ??? forgiveness ;a;
> 
> anyway, enjoy! c;
> 
> same as always:
> 
> [ x ] - Yellow
> 
> { x } - White

* * *

The second time he admitted he needed someone, two things happened: He got introduced to the man behind the Spidey mask, and the Goblin was a complete cock block.

Spider-Man swung them out of the building just before the rumbling mess started collapsing in on itself. They hit the roof of a building a few ways away hard, their bodies rolling until they stopped. Wade coughed, trying to clear the smoke he had inhaled from the fire. He could feel his skin shifting to start healing the burn wounds and the cuts and stabs from rogue shrapnel and flying pieces of glass. His arms were around the more recognizable of their little team-up.

Spidey was coughing, as well, and Wade let go of him immediately, giving him air. Once they had clean air back in their lungs, it was the other man who started it.

“I told you… not to use yourself… as a… meat shield,” he mumbled in between gasps and wheezes. He leaned back on one of the walls of the roof, knees almost tucked to his chest, arms resting on them. If Wade wasn’t too busy with the pain, he’d have sprung a boner from the sight of his manly bulge on the spandex.

[Never too late for a guest appearance!]

Ah, Yellow was back online. That meant at least a third of his brain was functional.

“Gotta protect the mortal half of the duo,” he joked and sat up as well. He didn’t mind being the meat shield. Hell, he had even volunteered, even if Spider-Man was mostly against the idea (why does he even care, anyway? To him, it’s just a team-up). But at times like these, when things get a little too rough, Wade didn’t have the heart to let him get the brunt of the attack. No, Spidey plus getting hurt didn’t amount to okay to him, at all. He didn’t know why, either.

{Maybe it’s because you love him.}

Wade growled defensively, and Spidey looked up at him, confused. He shook his head and pointed to his suit, ruined beyond repair and exposing angry burns. “That shithead Goblin owes me a new suit.”

“Those look pretty bad,” he replied, pointing at the burns. “You sure you’ll be okay?”

“Yeah, babe. Gimme five minutes and I’ll be back to my sexy, scarred self, so hold on to your panties – if you have one underneath that suit.”

Spider-Man just snorted, again brushing Wade’s flirtation away expertly, and went to check his wounds and suit. When Wade was sure the younger man’s attention was focused elsewhere, he rounded on White.

“I have no such feelings.”

[Uh… you kinda do.]

“Yellow, don’t be a backstabbing little shithead.”

[I am so not! We like him, too!]

{I just like him because he agreed to team up with us.}

[Don’t forget the butt!]

{…Fine, the butt was a plus.}

[A huge fucking plus, _baby!]_

“Yeah… the butt.” Wade didn’t have that much space for teleporting while on their team ups, since the crowd they were controlling were mostly up to thirteen at most (and that was just one time, when there was an impending gang war they had to split up), so he had to always travel on foot. Spidey, with his web-shooters, would swing between buildings, often sticking to hacked police patrol and this thing he calls his ‘Spidey sense’ to track down evildoers in the night.

[That sounded so cliché, even for the writer.]

“She says ‘shut up’. I second the motion.”

[Make me! H-hey, wait, no, I was just joking –]

{…That was fast.}

So anyway, that was why he had a lot of time ogling at the Spidey-butt, _far_ too much time for the masked vigilante to be comfortable with, seeing as how he’d brush off Wade’s steady stream of applause for a butt that firm and squishy-looking and just screaming to get banged on whatever surface.

The team-up had been a surprise, too – Wade had been in a good mood that one time, because finally Fury had paid him for a dirty job done, and he asked Spidey the first time they met that night.

“So, I was thinking…” he had said, swinging one of his unsheathed katanas around like what people do with pens, spinning them around their fingers. Spider-Man had held up his hands in a ‘let’s not do anything hasty’ stance. “Nah, babe, I ain’t gonna take any offers to take you off the radar even if it were for a million dollars. Don’t freak out. I was just thinking of a team-up. You know, since we’re all _partners_ and all.”

White had said that the sword must’ve been the only reason why he’d agreed to the thing. Yellow said it was fate. But after that Spider-Man had eased down and told him to behave long enough, and he’d make it into a regular thing.

Needless to say, that had been three months ago, and they had been going out almost every night ever since.

{You make them sound like dates.}

[Uh, _duh?_ They totally are!]

Okay, so Wade had probably felt more than physical attraction to the face under the mask. He was quirky and sassy and talked passionately about his beliefs on good and evil and the country’s politics and such during their taco breaks (courtesy of Wade, of course). The guy probably just rambled on, happy to have a pair of ears to listen to him letting off all that nerdy steam from his brain. He probably thought his words went over Wade’s head like it did to everyone else when he was in civilian mode (a fact he would let slip over and over again as though it wasn’t any big deal, even though Wade knew how much it hurt him from his body language and personal experience), but what he didn’t know was that after their patrols, Wade would mull them over until he fell asleep, changing his views on the topic.

 Of course he never told him that. He didn’t know if his opinion was warranted.

But at least he was actually being trusted enough with that side of Spider-Man.

“Ready to go?” Wade asked, standing up and testing out his limbs to see if any of them were sprained and/or broken. “You still have to report to S.H.I.E.L.D. about this, like you always do.” He held out a hand to help him up.

Spider-Man just looked at his hand, then at his face. “Come over here for a sec.”

{What’s this?}

[Do we have shrapnel sticking out on our forehead?]

“Do I have shrapnel sticking out of my forehead?” he repeated jokingly, but bent down nonetheless. Spider-Man didn’t move back, just stared at him, fixated. To the point it made him fidget nervously. Did he do something? “Uhm, should I apologize? I think I should…? Damn, uh, okay, sorry for being a meat shield, but I really can’t have you hurt, you know, and –“

“Wade, did you just tell me to report this to S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

“Huh?” So that’s what had him in a fix? “Jesus, baby-boy, I thought I did something bad.”

“It’s… something interesting… coming from you.”

{Uh oh. Maybe you let slip one of those changes you thought about.}

Wade fidgeted even more. “Well, I thought about what you said at that time, y’know… you telling me to trust the system more, and…”

“And you… you listened?”

“Well, yeah.” Heat crept up from his neck to his cheeks. Thankfully his mask hid it all from the world. “I mean, it really opened my eyes, and stuff, and… look, Goblin’s gonna be back in no time, so I suggest you go to S.H.I.E.L.D. pronto, Spidey.”

There was silence between them, and it got broken by one word.

“Peter.”

[What?]

{What?}

“What?”

“It’s… Peter. My name’s Peter. Call me Peter.”

The boxes went quiet. Wade’s mouth fell slack, and he looked like a masked guppy on steroids out of the water. The static in his brain, for years only background noise, seemed to swell, taking up the space where the usual activity now stood still.

And as if Spider-Man hadn’t already short-circuited Wade’s mind, he placed his hand on the top of his head. After only a moment of hesitation, he pulled it off.

The guy’s eyes were closed when the mask came off – he looked like he was wincing, or trying to not look at Wade’s reaction to his bare face. When the mercenary didn’t make a sound, those eyes opened, and –

_Oh._

Now Wade could see him clearly. Doe brown eyes looked up at him, mixing insecurity and relief to finally show him his naked face. His facial features were soft, and his jaw was smooth yet strong. He had a nose that looked like it had been broken once or twice before, and it had a barely noticeable bump where, Wade guessed, he had placed the bridge of his glasses. His cheeks were flushed, probably from the excitement of revealing his face or from the explosion, Wade didn’t know. He had brown hair that spiked up in a mess, but it was a fluffy, good kind of mess that made Wade want to run his fingers through them, straighten them, mess them up even more.

And his lips. Oh God, his lips that were upturned at the corners in a humble, sheepish half-smile and the small show of perfect pearly whites.

If Wade had previously denied he was in love with Spider-Man, there was no doubting now.

The unmasked Spidey cleared his throat, and held out his gloved hand. When he saw it, he took his glove off and smiled. “My whole name is Peter Parker. And I… I just trusted you with a secret I couldn’t even share with S.H.I.EL.D. and I can’t believe I’m doing this, but… hello. Nice to meet you.” He started laughing, and it filled Wade with a warmth that he could only compare to a mug of hot chocolate with exactly six marshmallows while cuddling in ugly Christmas jumpers with the person they love under a blanket in a couch by the fire. When Peter laughed, his eyes and nose crinkled and it did funny things to the beat of his heart and his breathing pattern.

It felt so right, and he felt drunk off of it and he’d want more and more of it, whatever the fuck it is.

“God, you’re gorgeous.” And he had said it out loud.

{Fuck.}

[Abort mission! ABORT FUCKING MISSION!]

Wade felt the moment being shattered, the peace suddenly turning heavy and awkward and bearing down on his shoulders. Why couldn’t he have kept his mouth shut? He felt like he could hide under a rock for a century until everything’s new and he could just restart his whole life.

But apparently, Peter didn’t feel a thing, because his cheeks just reddened a little bit more and Wade’s stomach flipped at the sight. “Uhm… thanks, I guess?”

{…He took it in stride?}

[RE-START MISSION, RESTART THE FUCKING MISSION –]

{We could kiss him.}

[We _should_ kiss him!]

That thought had crossed his mind over and over before, but he always stopped himself short for fear of messing everything up.

But Peter… Peter was right there. So approachable, so open, so fucking _perfect_.

No. Wade didn’t need to be told twice.

 He leaned forward, one hand caressing Peter’s cheek and the other one rolling his mask up. He felt more than heard Peter’s confused yelp of “Wade?” before he pressed their lips together. Peter’s lips were warm and smooth compared to his rough and chapped own, but he didn’t care, and his mind exploded and his ears were ringing because he was doing it, he was _actually fucking doing it._

{Wait… He’s not kissing back.}

Oh, _fuck._

“I-I’m sorry.” Fuck, he should’ve thought of his feelings before diving headfirst into the situation. He leaned back, and Peter looked stunned. _Shit._ “Fuck, fuck, I’m sorry, I just…” His hands were acting on their own, reaching for his gun in his holsters.

That woke Peter up, and he stopped him, grabbing him by the wrist. “Hey, hey, whoa!”

Wade was breathing fast, and he just wanted all of this to end. The one good thing he had in his life, and he fucked it up.

[Now where had we heard of that before?]

{Probably every Spideypool fic ever.}

[Again with the clichés, author! Oh, fuck, _wai_ \--]

{…Remind me never to anger the author.}

“Tell you what.” Wade didn’t even look at Peter anymore. “I go left, you go right, and we do not speak of this ever again, forget it happened at all, and –“

“Wade, Wade, please, listen –“

“Just stop it, it was embarrassing and I – I wasn’t in my right mind –“

{You never are.}

Wade continued. “And I just… forget it, forget –“

And his tirade was broken by a pair of lips on his own.

{Oh.}

[My.]

_God._

He stiffened for three seconds, and Peter leaned back just a few inches to look at him through the eyes of his mask. “Can you take the mask off? And before you interrupt!” he added, when he saw Wade formulating the 2,000 reasons why that would be a _terrible_ idea, “I just… wanted to kiss you without the mask.”

{Oh.}

Wade looked down at him, at this perfect man who was smiling sheepishly at him like a teenager on their first date. “Please?”

He smiled slightly. To hell with this. Peter seemed to accept him. He’d be damned to pass this up. He took off his mask. “Can’t say no to you, Petey.”

And this time, they both leaned into the kiss, bodies flush against each other. Peter had his arm around Wade’s neck, while the mercenary had his arms around Peter’s waist, pulling him up a bit so their faces levelled. Their kiss was light at first, but gradually deepened, neither of them wanting to take it too fast and started with baby steps because this was new, and this was something to be cherished, and this was something they wanted for a very long time and they couldn’t mess it up.

Peter broke away first for sheer lack of oxygen, but he kissed Wade’s nose when he pouted. “Gotta breathe, Wade. Can’t have me gasping for air.”

“Want me to make you gasp something else? My name, perhaps? Alongside with God's?”

“Wade!”

“Fine, fine.” He laughed and put him down. But as soon he was on the ground, Wade swooped a kiss, and another, and another, until he was smothering Peter with it and the boy was a giggling mess, trying to stop him because he couldn’t even see anything apart from Wade’s half-exposed face.

On his sixteenth stolen kiss, he registered faint beeping. He tilted his head. “Is that my phone, or yours?”

Peter looked up at him, still giddy, but when he heard it too, his breath hitched, his eyes widened, his smile fell.

“Wade, look out!” He screamed, and Wade felt a slight tug at his suit before Peter bodily threw him off the building. He slammed against the wall, saved by Peter’s webbing.

“Peter?!” He shrieked, but his voice got lost in a sudden explosion that rang through his ears.

His blood turned cold.

“Peter!” He screamed and lifted himself up with the web (how strong _is_ that stuff?), landing on the rooftop with a graceless thud. He caught a glimpse of the Goblin Glider from the corner of his eye and heard a faint cackle as he sped off. There were the remains of a pumpkin bomb by Wade’s feet. He kicked it away and quickened the pace. “Where are you, Spidey?!”

{Search those crates.}

He did so, and when he found him, he felt like he got shot through the chest.

Peter was lying facefirst on one of the crates, no doubt having jumped over them as the explosion happened. He looked motionless, and his arm was stuck at an arm angle.

“Shit, shit…” He crouched down and carefully rolled him over face-up to assess the damage. Peter’s nose was broken from the fall, and there was a sizable cut on his forehead that was making Wade nervous on the amount of blood flowing freely down his chin. The fact that Peter’s eyelids were fluttering shut didn’t help, either.

“Stay with me.” He mumbled, patting Peter’s suit for the small device that, when pressed, alerted the Avengers if any of their members were in an emergency and needed rescue. He pressed it immediately and a red dot started blinking in the darkness. “Petey, I need you to stay with me.”

“W…ade…”

“Don’t. Talk.”

“But Wade…” It looked as though Peter was doing everything he can to do one simple move, and it was to lift his hand. His fingers deftly pointed at something on his chest before his arm promptly fell back on the ground. Wade followed his finger, and he could feel himself blanching. There was something silver glinting maliciously, half of it tearing inside Peter by his ribcage.

[Fuck. That looks bad.]

{You think?!}

Wade tried to shut them out with the promise of bullets to the brain later on in the evening, but all of them were effectively silenced with Peter starting to cough up blood.

“I need you to stay with me,” Wade repeated, trying to stroke his hair with his shaking fingers. “Keep your eyes open, and stay with me.”

“Wade…”

“No.” He growled. What was taking them so long?! “No, no. You can’t leave, you can’t…”

“I feel…” Peter coughed up again. The stream of blood now grew into a river. “…Pretty shitty.”

“Dammit, Peter, you couldn’t even fucking stop with the jokes.”

“Spoils…port…” he mumbled, and his eyes closed with an apologetic smile on his face.

“No… no, no, no, Petey, get up.”

 To say Wade was panicking was the _second_ understatement of the century.

“Come on, come on, please, wake up, we gotta go to school and shit and…”

He couldn’t stop shaking.

Why does it feel so cold?

“Peter, Petey, honeypie, Perfect Ass, you can’t sleep yet…”

Peter wasn’t replying.

Why wasn’t he replying?

“Peter…”

* * *

 

Wade felt as if it had been hours after Peter lost consciousness, but he knew it was only minutes. That didn’t help at all, however, when Stark finally arrived at the scene, hovering in that Tin man suit of his.

One look from Wade’s helpless form cradling Spider-Man’s unmasked, motionless body and Stark began to call the shots. He had flown Peter to the Tower himself, making sure not to jostle him too much, and he had been invited by the man himself. They’d take care of Peter, and he was just unconscious – Tony’s voice felt reassuring. But seeing his baby-boy look broken and bloody wasn’t easing his nerves.

Hours later Spider-Man was rushed into one of the emergency rooms of the Tower, Wade was still sitting down on a cold, stiff chair, hands clasped together and head bent. He probably looked like a man deep in prayer, wishing for a miracle.

[Peter’s gonna be okay… right?]

Wade didn’t have the heart to answer. He didn’t even know exactly _what_ to answer. A collapsed lung wasn’t fun and games, and he knew that from personal experience. Drowning in one’s blood was no pleasant thing to undergo, and it made his blood boil thinking of the person who had done this to Peter.

Green Goblin.

{He’ll have hell to pay.}

“Oh, he’ll have worse than hell to pay. I’ll make sure to beat him up so bad, hell would look like a goddamned paradise compared to the situation I put him in.”

Both of his boxes went silent, letting anger fuel Wade for another half-hour. It was better than anxiety and Schrodinger and fear clutching his throat tight so he had trouble breathing. Anger was a way out. Anger didn’t involve thinking too much. Anger didn’t involve much thinking at all. It was the best way out.

After his anger died down, a redhead walked over to him. She had high cheekbones and an important air around her. It probably didn’t help that she wore a white coat and skirt, and pointed heels, and holding a tablet, and she looked more cold and heartless than ever. Until she offered Wade a weak smile that shone like a crack of sunlight through the shade of trees, but it still didn’t make him feel any better.

“My name’s Pepper Potts.”

“Sorry, ma’am, you look wonderful and all, but I’ve got a boyfriend,” Wade babbled on, waving his hand in the general direction where J.A.R.V.I.S. informed him Peter had been taken to. Which, Wade now thought about it, was where this Miss Potts came from.

“Spider-Man?” Pepper raised a perfectly pencilled eyebrow, but she didn’t look disgusted. If anything, she looked amused. As though she had been privy to a secret a lot of people don’t know but would like to, and she revelled in the position she was in.

Wade scratched at his masked cheek absently. “Well, yeah… Is… Is he okay?”

He felt his gut clenching uncomfortably, waiting for her answer, for the heartbreak, wanting no more than to get the hell out of the Tower he wanted to be in for so long but for entirely different reasons.

Pepper just smiled kindly at him. “Please follow me and see for yourself.” And before he could reply, Pepper turned around and started walking. He hastily followed, hunched over and wringing his hands. He rambled on about Peter being Spider-Man, and the events that happened, and Green Goblin being such an epic cockblock, and Pepper just nodded along politely, leading him corridor after corridor, not knowing Wade’s growing anxiety at each passing turn.

Would Peter be awake when he went inside his room? Would Peter be wrapped in bandages head to toe? Would Peter be gaunt and pale with all those tubes stuck in his body and foreign machines whirring and beeping around his bed? Wade felt goosebumps run down his body just imagining Peter in a hospital bed like that.

{No origin flashbacks.}

[Aw, but I love those!]

{Quit it. Peter’s much more important.}

When Pepper stopped them in front of a simple white door, Wade felt like every inch of his body was in knots. Pepper must’ve noticed, because she patted his back and said, “Don’t worry, he’ll be fine.”

Wade gulped audibly and opened the door.

Peter Parker was dressed in a hospital gown, his head bandaged and his arm in a cast. A few bandages peeked from under his gown. His hair was a mess, and his eyes looked glossed over as he looked out the window displaying a part of New York’s skyline. The tubes running from his good arm under the sleeve of his arm pumped steadily, and an IV stand was nearby.

When Peter realized he had a visitor, he looked up. When he saw it was Wade, he brightened and smiled.

“Hey.”

Wade felt his stomach flip. Is it real? Is he here?

[Can we stab ourselves in the leg to prove it?]

{Hush.}

“Are you okay now? Are you really here?” The last question fell from the mercenary’s lips quickly, unconsciously. Dammit, Yellow.

[What did I do?!]

Peter just chuckled and waved his unrestricted hand over his body. “I guess you can call this okay. I’ve been better.” He looked up sheepishly. “And… yeah, I’m here. You said you needed me to stay, so… I stayed.”

Wade didn’t remember crossing the room, or taking Peter’s hand in his while his other hand cupped the boy’s cheek. What he _did_ remember was the happy sigh that left Peter’s lips once they kissed, and the feeling of all the knots of anxiety Wade had tied on the way to Peter untying and dissolving into nothingness.

 


End file.
